


I know he is made from smoke

by bookofthenightsky



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Mentions of Geo and his adjacent warnings, Sharing a Bed, femdom elements, guild wars - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25941550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookofthenightsky/pseuds/bookofthenightsky
Summary: After four days of Guild Wars fighting next to Belial, Djeeta finds herself invited to his bed. And sleep isn't the only thing on offer...
Relationships: Belial/Djeeta (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 96





	I know he is made from smoke

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Temptation by Tom Waits.
> 
> In honor of Belial being announced for release in GBVS this month, I have finally gotten around to posting this! Much thanks to meadowlarked, BisKitty, and thistlesloth

Tetrastreamer’s darkly rainbowed blade dropped to the ground and Djeeta panted, the breath harsh in her throat. She was, Djeeta reflected, going to have _words_ with Geo the next time he showed up.

“You dead over there?” Belial sounded less cheery than normal, but who could blame him. Geo was pretty close to a primal beast’s wildest nightmare, and even the silver-tongued fallen hadn’t been able to talk the dragon-like creature around to something resembling clarity.

Djeeta took stock. Hair clinging stickily to her face from sweat, ribbons long since ripped free. Stomach a mass of aches, nausea from too many potions and the hits she had taken merging into a leaden pain that penetrated to her spine. Legs infiltrated with a fine tremble now that her combat high was ebbing. Fingers she couldn’t even feel at this point.

“I think I’d feel better if I was dead.” Four days with basically no sleep, just combat. She’d never have taken Belial alone for backup if there had been anyone else available, but this had come at the absolute worst time and she had to leave _someone_ to man the Grandcypher. (She probably shouldn’t have taken a primal near Geo either, but Belial was an adult and he could make his own informed choices. If he wanted to get within range of something that he knew wanted to rip out his core and eat it, that was on him.)

“Fair!”

Djeeta forced herself to straighten and turned towards him. Her heart skipped a jagged beat. “Your face!” Belial had a hand pressed to his right eye, blood trickling down his wrist to disappear into the sleeve of his jacket. Upon a second scan, she noticed that he had clawmarks along his ribs too, the blood mostly hidden under the black fabric now hanging loose from Belial’s shoulders without a clasp. She reached out on instinct, but her mana pool was scraped dry.

“I’ve had worse,” Belial said dismissively, then grinned, “but I won’t say no to getting your hands on me.”

“You know what, I dunno why I was worried about you,” Djeeta remarked. She hefted her sword and tried not to sway. “Let’s get back so I can pass out in peace.”

“Oh, a _bed_. Sounds _great_.” Belial managed to pack a whole world of insinuation into the words, despite everything. Djeeta wondered, in the irrelevant way of the completely exhausted, if he could actually follow through with that implied promise in his condition.

The walk back to where the Grandcypher was docked was a haze to her brain. She’d hit her limit of taking things in for the day. Farrah’s yelp at their appearance barely made an impression- Djeeta was just grateful for the hand under her elbow in escort to the infirmary. She closed her eyes for a minute, then a faint tingle of healing magic brought feeling back to her limbs, and she opened them again.

Sarunan smiled vaguely down at her, pricking her mental haze with a sharp needle of concern. “Just sit there for a minute and let that take, Captain,” he told her, attention already turning to Belial.

Djeeta mouthed a curse at having Sarunan being the one on-shift right now. He must have recovered from the fight a few days ago, and the night shift in the infirmary wasn’t the most sought-after time slot. Unfortunately, Djeeta didn't trust Belial with Sarunan- or, honestly, Sarunan with Belial. The erune mage's impulse control was poor when it came to forbidden magic, and she doubted Belial would care if Sarunan started committing ritual murder because of some secret he'd whispered in the mage's ear. Normally she wouldn’t mind having to stay so much, but she was _tired._

She watched the erune peel blood-soaked fabric away from Belial’s fair skin and winced at the wounds in better light. She’d missed the ragged electrical burns on Belial’s arm, on the same side he’d taken the claw marks and the facial cut on. They had probably been taken in sequence, the prior injuries slowing him down after hours and hours of being the only person whose endurance she could rely on. She hadn’t noticed at all; she’d been so involved in spellcasting.

That was unacceptable. If it hadn’t been Belial as her partner, she could have gotten someone killed. People depended on her to make the right calls.

“Oh,” Sarunan said, in a tone that yanked Djeeta’s attention from her self-flagellation. The erune had finished with Belial’s arm and side and was now examining his face. “I can’t do anything for your eye…” Ice cold horror froze Djeeta’s lungs.

“You can’t,” the primal agreed. “It’ll have to heal on its own. Just clean it and stick a bandage over it.”

Sarunan nodded and reached back for the tray of supplies. Belial held himself still as the healer started to work on his face. Djeeta released a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what she would have done if one of her crew had lost an eye while under her care.

She stared at the scrapes on her knuckles, already less enflamed from the healing Sarunan had set to working, until he proclaimed, “All done.” Sarunan stepped back and addressed them both. “You two need at least a full day off duty, healer’s orders. I’ll tell Katalina in the morning. Get eight hours of sleep, more if you can manage, and come back here tomorrow afternoon for a check-up. Got it?”

“Sure,” Djeeta said, having basically heard ‘off duty’ and ‘sleep’ and glossed over everything else. She stood with an effort.

“Nice of you to wait for me,” Belial commented, mouth crooking in a smile. He’d left his ruined jacket in the infirmary- not that being shirtless really changed the character of his outfit. The bandages, however…

“You got hurt on my watch,” Djeeta replied brusquely. “Making sure you don’t pass out on the way to your room is a captain’s job.”

“Mhm. And who’s going to make sure you don’t pass out on the way to _your_ room?” Djeeta ignored the lilt to the question that she’d come to think meant Belial was amused-amused as opposed to cynical-amused or cruel-amused. She’d been (stupidly) surprised when she’d realized that Belial did in fact have moods, things that he liked and disliked, underneath all of his precisely calculated posturing. Trying to figure him out was vaguely like trying to track underground rivers in the Silverwind Stretch, but Djeeta wasn’t put off by trivial things like difficulty.

The executive decision made regarding Belial’s room placement was to put him in an outside-facing berth in the same general vicinity as several of the more aloof primals. They had more of a chance of keeping track of him than anyone else: slim rather than none. Sandalphon had half-volunteered to be Belial’s parole officer (and judge and executioner) but Djeeta had put her foot down. _That_ wouldn’t have done either of them any good.

“As you can see, got here in one piece.” Djeeta blinked out of her daze- she kept losing time and it would have been scary if her brain were working right. She was leaning on the frame of Belial’s door, looking at him sitting on his bed. “I’d ask if you had something more interesting in mind since you’re standing around staring at me, but even I’m not conceited enough to think I win out over the prospect of lying down right now.”

“Right,” Djeeta said fuzzily as Belial did some minor primal witchcraft and traded his chain-bedecked belt and pants for something more sleep appropriate. Where was her cabin in relation to here, again? Or at least the room of someone that wouldn’t mind sharing a bed for the night.

“I don’t mind.” Djeeta had a moment of _did-I-say-that-out-loud_ before Belial shifted himself all the way on to the bed and indicated the open space he’d left with an offering of his uninjured arm. The offered spot drew her thoughts irresistibly.

Djeeta swayed on her feet, so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. There were reasons why this was a terrible idea, but she couldn’t think of them right now. If Belial wanted to kill her, he’d had plenty of opportunity while he’d been the only one at her back. Joining him in bed was probably about the same objective level of danger as partnering to fight with him was. She dragged the door shut behind her and managed the few steps over.

Numb fingers fumbling with the remains of her red coat, she collapsed onto the edge of the mattress. She tossed the fabric away and found the catches to her armor. The weight off her chest gave her a breath more energy, and she shed her greaves and skirt and stockings as quickly as her exhaustion would let her. Her runeslayer’s tunic was _almost_ a decent length on its own. Almost was close enough at this point.

She collapsed onto Belial’s arm and dragged her bare feet up onto the bed, not even bothering to try for a pillow. She vaguely heard the primal’s amused huff before he started rearranging her with effortless strength, tucking her under his chin and pulling her back against his chest.

“Stop it,” she mumbled. “Sleep now.”

Belial chuckled, sounding tired himself. He dropped his bandaged arm over her and hummed, low and pleased. “Night, Singularity.”

~

Consciousness and soreness returned to Djeeta at the same time. An all-over ache from pushing her muscles too long and too far, a heaviness in her bones that no single night’s sleep could cure. She flexed her hands vaguely, feeling the weakness from days of gripping a blade without rest.

An arm was draped possessively over her. For a second, Djeeta was confused- Lyria wasn’t big enough to cover her whole back, and it couldn’t Rosetta or Bea or one of the other girls, they had softer curves. Then blurred recollections of Belial offering a tempting expanse of mattress surfaced from the haze of the last few days, and Djeeta tensed.

Bad idea. Soreness graduated to pain as her overworked muscles protested with a barrage of stabs. Tenseness became a full-body wince.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Belial’s normally low voice was sleep-roughened as he spoke into her hair. “You must be aching, Singularity.”

“Right back at you,” Djeeta replied, nearly as hoarsely. Her mouth was papery and tasted like metal and the oily aftertaste of potions. “Didn’t you lose an eye?”

“Oh, that.” Belial moved, dropping Djeeta onto her back without him to lean against. It left her looking up at him, her arm against the elbow he was resting his weight on. His dark hair was disarranged from its usual careful styling. It made him look…less artificial, maybe. Or maybe just like he needed some more sleep, Djeeta thought dryly. But his face was unmarked. Primal healing at work. “All better, no worries. See?”

“I notice you didn’t get rid of the rest of the bandages.” Patches of white still covered the arm that had been over her and just below his ribs on that side.

“They’re closed,” Belial reassured her, then smirked. “I could go a few rounds.” Djeeta translated that to ‘not fully healed, but combat capable,’ and ignored the innuendo. She scrutinized him, taking in the intense contrasts of coloring that helped make the primal so striking. Belial wasn’t too pale or ashen, he looked fine. Better than she felt, despite the bandages.

“I’m glad you’re feeling alright,” Djeeta told him.

“I sleep better when someone’s in the bed with me.” Belial draped himself back over the pillows, settling comfortably onto his uninjured side to curl around her again. Djeeta thought about shoving him back, but he wasn’t being _that_ pushy. This was technically his bed. Besides, she kinda wanted to go back to sleep and this was comfy.

“What time is it?”

Belial’s eyes went abstracted as he measured some arcane thing only light or dark primals could perceive. Noa had told her it had something to do with the relative proportions of light or dark element mana in the surrounding area. “Hour after dawn.”

Katalina had Lyria and could look after the Grandcypher just fine. Sarunan had taken her off the combat roster unless there was a world-ending emergency. There wasn’t really any reason not to get a few hours more rest, and Belial hadn’t murdered her yet. “I’m going back to sleep, then.”

“Not a bad idea. Sweet dreams,” Belial purred, clearly pleased she hadn’t escaped him. She pointedly closed her eyes on him and his smugness.

~

The next time she woke up, she was less disoriented, still exhausted, and also aware that she wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep. Once Djeeta was up, she was up for good. No matter how much she might wish otherwise.

She also had to deal with the fact that she’d cuddled up to Belial sometime during her nap, letting him tuck her under his chin again. It wasn’t unexpected given her track record of sharing beds, but Belial and Lyria were in way different categories.

Unsurprisingly, the fallen angel was awake when she squirmed her way out of his embrace and propped herself on the pillow that she had completely ignored last night. It still left considerable overlap considering the size of the ship’s beds, but. “Sleep well?” he asked.

“I was totally passed out, so I guess that counts.” Remembering her captainly duties, she asked, “You sleep okay?”

“Trust me, Singularity, not having to worry about if I’m going to wake up makes everything more restful.”

A snippet of memory rose at his dry words. “Michael told me you didn’t sleep for 2000 years while they were looking for you.”

“Mika-chan what?” Belial looked bemused for a moment, then his face cleared. “Ohh, I know what she was talking about. Concealing my aura, right? She’s always been terrible at it, it’s not _that_ bad.”

“What’s it like, then?” The way a primal beast’s powers worked rarely made sense to Djeeta- they could cast spells like anyone else, but when they were using their core abilities it seemed to be driven by instinct and whatever idea the Astrals had in mind while creating them. That didn’t mean she wasn’t interested, though.

“Mmm.” Belial scooted up the bed a little until they were on the same eye level and picked up her hand in his. “You’ve worn talon gauntlets, I’ve seen you. It’s a little like that.” His knuckles were still battered, though the injuries looked a week old rather than less than a day. Djeeta’s similar injuries had closed under Sarunan’s slow healing already, but then, her worst hurts had been bruises. Strong fingers threaded through hers, exposing her palm. “You always have to think, to remember what you’re wearing so you don’t claw your face up on accident or catch your clothes. It’s usually not a _lot_ of concentration, but it’s in the back corner of your mind all the time.”

“So it’s not that I couldn’t _sleep_ so much as I couldn’t relax all the way because that would let the spell go. You can doze like that, but you can’t really rest.” He stroked his thumb over the pulse in her wrist. Her heart stuttered, the skin under his fingers tingling.

A touch and she was suddenly sensitized to all the bare skin she was up against, the thin fabric of a runeslayer’s underdress failing to hide how warm he was. Djeeta prickled all over with a rush of not-unpleasant goosebumps. Belial considered her reaction, visibly speculative, then pressed his lips to her bared palm.

Djeeta didn’t stop him. He laced their fingers together more securely and kissed her life-line, the web between thumb and forefinger, the heel of her palm. Then, flicking his eyes to her again, he rested his warm, inviting mouth against her pulse. This time, she actually shivered.

“Well, that’s nice,” Belial purred. She shivered again, because he was talking just for her, low and intimate and very pleased. “Is there something you want, Singularity? I would be _very_ happy to give it to you.”

Options presented themselves to her. She could say no, get up, and leave. She could try to fake her way through this, chasing the feeling that was making her hot and sensitive. She could invite Belial to do what he wanted and sidestep the problem altogether.

She didn’t want to do the first, the second sounded stupid, and the third sounded stupider. “I don’t know,” she said at last.

“You don’t know what you want from me, or you don’t know what you want?”

A squirm, and she admitted, “Both.”

“Well, I could experiment a little?” Belial offered, then, reading her face, concluded, “No. Alright…” He segued back into visible consideration again. Djeeta felt a little bad, but giving the fallen angel license to try what he pleased- even what he thought would please _her_ \- sounded like a recipe for disaster. She was torn between wanting the reins fully in her hands and the knowledge that she had no idea where she was going.

“Here’s an idea,” Belial said, then coaxed her up and over, settling his shoulders firmly on the mattress and her firmly on top of him, knees on either side of his waist. She spared a thought for his bandaged side, but he didn’t seem to be hurting as he made himself comfortable.

He stroked up her bare thigh reassuringly, then dropped both his hands to the mattress and went totally limp, complete with bared throat. He looked up at her from under dark lashes, gauging her reaction. “You’ve got me. What are you going to do with me?”

“Uh.” Djeeta’s mouth was dry. Watching Belial loll about like he was at her mercy was wildly hot even though she knew better. “What?”

“You can do _whatever_ you want. I’m at your _service_. My hands’ll stay right here, you’ve got _complete_ control over what happens.” He scrunched the blankets under his fingers illustratively then loosened his grip back to performative passivity again.

The idea was a heady one. The ability to explore to her heart’s content with no pressure behind it was ridiculously tempting, which was no doubt why he’d suggested it. “So you’ll stay like this.” A confirming chin tilt. “The whole time. No matter what I do.” Another. “And if I decide I’ve had enough, we’re done.” Belial hummed an affirmative. She continued, “Even if we’re in the middle of something?”

“The point of this is for you to have fun,” Belial said. At her scrunched brows he continued, “Trust me, if you like it, I’ll like it. Even if what you like is teasing me and leaving me hanging.”

“You’re just hoping this will convince me to go further,” Djeeta accused.

“Oh no, you’ve guessed my evil plot,” Belial drawled, carmine eyes sparkling with held-back laughter. “My very, very obvious evil plot.”

Djeeta grumbled, flushing. Well, that was probably deserved. Though the thought that Belial was being so accommodating because he wanted to do this _again_ was…well, Djeeta was one part flattered, one part intimidated, and one part apprehensive. For all his play at submission under her hands, Djeeta had no illusions that she was petting the prettiest, most venomous serpent ever born under the skies and that he could sink fangs into her hand faster than she could blink. Djeeta would rather have him under her eye and behaving himself than coiled under some rock plotting who-knows-what, but under her eye _and_ plotting who-knows-what was only marginally better.

Still. He was very, _very_ pretty; true humor with a touch of mischief suited him, smoothing away some of the dangerous edges that Djeeta never forgot were there. Instead of a primal as wild as the endless expanse of the night sky, he was just a man grinning up at her like there was no place he’d rather be than underneath her.

Tentatively, she traced the slope of his collarbone to where it met the strong lines of his shoulders and throat. There was something about Belial that let him look both very masculine and very…elegant, might be the word. Or maybe graceful was closer. She thought it had something to do with his proportions, the balance of shoulder to waist to hip, the same thing that made Siegfried so direly handsome. Of course, Belial’s looks had nothing to do with some fortunate quirk of nature.

Impishly, she tugged on his dark bangs. “Your hair is all messy.”

“And you’re still in yesterday’s clothes, Singularity,” Belial observed, with the clear implication that she could stand to be wearing less.

Djeeta put her foot down. “You can’t call me Singularity here. No.”

“Hmm, your name is a bit difficult to come up with nicknames for…” Belial mused, then grinned. Djeeta immediately got the impression she’d made a tactical error. “Dove, hm, no. Jewel? Nah. Princess would be a good one-“

“Don’t you even,” Djeeta threatened.

“Don’t like it? Tch.” He continued throwing things out, grinning at her reactions. “Honey is out. My sword saint?” At her expression, he pouted. “I like that one though…Ah, I know, I’ll go with something classic.” His smile switched from amused to seductive. “ _Sweetheart._ ”

She’d been on the wrong end of an elemental advantage a few times. He couldn’t have landed a more effective hit if she’d had been light-aspected.

“Oh yes, she likes it.” Belial dripped smugness at his correct guess. “Sweetheart,” he crooned, “I’m waiting for you.”

Djeeta, captivated, reached out and brushed a fingertip across full lips. They curved in an enigmatic and inviting smile under her touch. A pink tongue darted across them, just glancing her finger in a wicked tease. Her free hand came down on the mattress and she cupped Belial’s jaw and kissed him.

She was sure her kisses were clumsy, but Belial responded with every evidence of enthusiasm. Except one: his hands, as he’d promised, stayed put. He titled his head obediently when she nudged him to experiment with different angles, and while he flicked his tongue playfully against her lips, he didn’t try to deepen the kiss himself. She had the helm of their little voyage.

A pause against his lips and he also stopped momentarily. When she didn’t do anything further, he pressed light kisses to the corner of her mouth and then along her jaw, nuzzling gently. It was a clear invitation to keep going, but still. Invitation, not a demand.

His approach, Djeeta reminded herself, was purely calculating. What he thought would best appeal to her. And he was right, because the way he was lying prone, deliberately limiting himself, made her stomach clench with want.

Instead of doing what he clearly wanted, she sat back and began exploring the dips and curves of his displayed body. His skin was silken smooth- where it wasn’t covered by bandages, obviously. She spent a moment leaning forward to touch the eye he had injured yesterday, and he closed both so she could inspect as she wished. Gods, his lashes were totally unfair on a man. Djeeta _wished_ she had his long, dark, dramatic lashes.

Of course, there was only so much exploration she could do before she was forced to admit she didn’t know where to go from here. It must have shown in her face because Belial asked, “Need help?”

Djeeta adopted her very best dry tone. “Well, getting to touch you is all well and good, but no experience is no experience, so…not sure where to go from here.” Despite her pose, it was still embarrassing. All this and she couldn’t think of a thing to do? Well, she _could,_ but how to get from her current position to foreplay or actual sex was a chasm she didn’t know how to cross.

“Hey, hey,” Belial soothed, as perceptive as ever about her moods. “No worries, I’m sure I can talk you through just about anything.” Left unsaid but not unheard was the clear implication that if Djeeta wanted him to start playing a different role, take over and make the decisions, that was an option too.

It would make things easier if she let Belial lead. She would be able to just enjoy without worrying about logistics or her own inexperience messing things up. But she wanted to see this through to the conclusion more.

Primal beasts weren’t susceptible to mortal diseases (as Noa had informed her that one time when he’d volunteered to play nurse for a virulently ill Rackam) and they didn’t reproduce by sex (as Rosetta had told her when Djeeta had asked her about kids). So any potentially messy consequences of actually having sex with Belial were all in the realm of other people’s judgment. Sandalphon would be _ticked_ if he found out, and Katalina and the others would definitely disapprove. There would be questions about whether she’d been charmed, about her being manipulated…

 _If_ they found out. Djeeta found she wasn’t that concerned. Weren’t teenagers supposed to get into reckless sex situations? She was _so_ responsible all the time, and here Belial was, offering her exactly what she wanted on a silver platter, no strings attached. As he’d no doubt done to many people before her.

(A small part of her _might_ have been picturing introducing Belial to her dad as her boyfriend. Just, you know, to make him feel properly bad about things. A bit petty, maybe, but at this point Djeeta felt like she deserved to be a bit petty.)

Djeeta took a deep breath, let it out, then asked, “Okay. What do you suggest?”

Which was how she found herself with handfuls of short dark hair, gasping and shuddering as Belial applied his evil tongue to the business of pleasuring her. He licked her open like she was his favorite dessert, chasing her natural wetness with luxuriant swipes and deep presses of his tongue.

She encouraged him on with heavy breaths and half-swallowed gasps and thin whimpers, clutching at his head. It felt filthy and decadent to have him kissing her there, pushing his tongue inside her, getting her vaginal fluids all over his face and the insides of her thighs.

Belial dragged his mouth up her and found her clit and Djeeta yelped, nearly unbalancing over him. She had to catch herself with one hand, squeezing the primal’s head between her thighs. Then she had to lean more weight onto her stable arm because Belial was laughing, the vibrations transmitting directly into _very_ sensitive parts of her and horizon below that was-!

Belial alternated between mouthing sweetly at her clit and eating her like some overripe fruit. Djeeta could _feel_ the faint hint of teeth and it made her break out in sweat and goosebumps and wracking shivers. It was scary in the same way that Belial was scary, a flutter of what-might-happen-next that made her dripping core clench with delighted tension. If he bit her, Djeeta wondered hazily, would it feel as good as everything else he was working at so enthusiastically?

“M-more,” Djeeta encouraged, not even knowing what she wanted but confident that Belial could give it to her. He did, doing something unspeakably perfect with his tongue and Djeeta sobbed with her orgasm.

“Stop,” she managed eventually when everything got too tender for her to enjoy anymore, “stop, oh,” she realized that the deathgrip of her thighs on him might make it hard for them to separate and Belial was still obedient to his promise not to move, “dammit, you can use your hands, just-!”

The angle was really bad, but Belial boosted her off with that effortless primal strength and his hands on her thighs, dropping her back into his lap. His chest rose in a deep breath as he got an elbow underneath himself, and Djeeta belatedly wondered if he had been able to get any air while she had been grinding herself into his face. Did primals even _need_ to breathe? Then her train of thought derailed because Belial’s chin was dripping with her fluids, and oh no he’d had his face in between her legs and his _tongue_ inside her and she might _combust_ with a tangled mixture of smugness and embarrassment. 

“That sure is a face, sweetheart,” Belial teased. His lashes were low and his color was high, a flush on his cool skin. “Didn’t I do a good job for you?”

Djeeta was always very careful to clearly express her approval to Belial in those circumstances where he deserved it (which there were more of than she’d expected, honestly). So she forced her way past that embarrassment to say, “Yes, you did.” She felt herself flush at the mess that Belial had made of himself chasing her pleasure. She was smearing her wetness all over-

Oh. Well. Apparently, getting her off was something Belial found arousing too. She flushed harder, but picked the metaphorical reins back up. “Down,” she ordered, pushing at his shoulder. Belial obligingly dropped onto his back again, and Djeeta basked in the thrill of having him obey her so nicely. She bent her mind to considering logistics.

Djeeta found a new perch on Belial’s thigh, shivering at the drag of cloth over solid muscle against her still-sensitive core. The primal watched her with avaricious eyes and the patience of a serpent that had all of time to get what he wanted. She was in so far over her head, but how exciting it was!

“You want me to pay some attention to you?” Djeeta asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind, sweetheart.” Belial’s voice was darker than ever, and knowing what that tongue could do…

“Just touch you?” Her fingertips delicately settled at the waistline of his sleep pants, above the obvious tenting of his erection.

“You don’t have to get fancy for it to be fun,” he said with a grin. Squashing down the impulse to leave him as he was and test the strength of his promises, she hooked her fingers into the waistband and pulled.

His dick was heavy and flushed with blood- big, too, though given his stature she figured that was probably a given. Not that she had anything to compare it to. Definitely big enough that she was just fine skipping trying to fit it in her for the moment. Touching it lightly let her feel that it was hot, blood close to the surface under almost surprisingly delicate skin. It also made Belial shift perceptibly, a little wiggle of his hips.

“You promised,” she reminded him.

“Not to move my hands. I _might_ be able to manage staying completely still if that’s what you really want,” he offered.

Djeeta considered it. “I just don’t want to break my wrist doing this- you think you can manage that?”

 _“That_ should be easy enough.” Reassured, Djeeta wrapped her fingers around his arousal with more confidence.

Belial did not stay silent as she worked his cock, breathy moans and pants spilling from his mouth. With his sounds of appreciation and the slow rolls of his hips, Djeeta found that she had more guidance than she had expected. She still didn’t want to hurt him, but she gathered the courage to grip more firmly and move faster. Her initiative earned her a lush, eager groan.

Heat bloomed across her face as she worked him, his voice getting louder and ever more appreciative. He was so pretty and so good, and she told him that in a husky voice of her own. Near what even she could recognize as the end, Belial tipped his head back and panted in between exhortations for her to go harder, grip tighter, yes-!

Left with sticky hands, Djeeta focused more on the primal coming down from his climax, all aflush and languid. He caught his breath faster than she had, and looked inquiringly up at her. “Like what you saw, sweetheart?”

“You already know that I did.” Belatedly, Djeeta allowed, “You can move again.”

Belial arched in a stretch, flexing his hands. A quick gesture and he held a cloth he’d retrieved from somewhere, maybe tucked in between the bed and the wall. He solicitously cleaned her hands and wiped up the rest of the mess, then rearranged himself into technical decency- as much as that ever applied to him, especially now.

Crimson eyes blinked up at her. “What now?”

She shrugged at the loaded question. “We’ve got a checkup in a few hours, right? I need to take my stuff back to my room and get dressed before then, I guess.”

Belial hummed. “Very practical as always. But you know what I mean. Am I a one-night fling? Or should I expect you by some other time?” His voice was, she thought, carefully and deliberately light.

Djeeta considered it. The possible consequences of this little tryst becoming more were pretty dire: betrayal by Belial on the one hand and the reactions of her crew on the other. But the potential rewards for getting Belial on her side were spectacular, and she was only partly thinking of the sex. If she got Belial to commit, he would _commit_. “If we make it to Estalucia and neither one of us has murdered the other by then, we can go public.” She was only about one quarter serious, but it was a very serious quarter. “You can meet my dad, they call him the primal killer.”

Belial’s expression said he was very amused and not intimidated at all. She wondered, once again, how much of her thoughts he could see and what was going on in his head. She would figure both out, she promised herself. “It’s a date, then.”


End file.
